


Invitation

by Totalspiffage



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Immensely powerful women get it on, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totalspiffage/pseuds/Totalspiffage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Empress Celene expected hostility when she invited the Queen of Ferelden to be her guest of honor at a midsummer ball. She did not expect to be so taken with her, nor Anora with she. (Chapter one is setup, chapter two is smut)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about rarepairs and I was like "Excuse me powerful ladies doing the Court thing and then fricking yes hell yeah I'm here for this." and so here this happened it's really late I'll get the smut up soon.

The invitation arrived in early winter. A midsummer ball in the name of peace and reconciliation, held in the palace in Val Royeaux. It was a standard invitation, Anora had her specialists check for poison, any sign of tampering. 

Refrains her father had repeated time and again, the story of her family’s legacy all pulled at her mind. But her advisors were stubborn. She had to attend, lest it be taken as offense or, at worst, open hostility.

She delayed her response.

Just past midwinter, another letter arrived, this time from Celene herself.

It was polite, asking about seemingly mundane things like trade in Ferelden and telling her how much the University of Orlais would like to send scholars to Anora’s newly formed counterpart in Denerim. She saw no overt hostility, but only a fool would not read into it.

She was prodding Anora for her answer, stressing her revolutionary ideas and lack of intent to push her borders into Ferelden territory. _“I am not my uncle,”_ she wrote, “ _And I have no doubt you bear as much distrust as those before you.”_ Her father, she means, thought Anora. It is true, her father would roll in his grave picturing his daughter corresponding with Emperor Florian’s niece, the current Empress of Orlais.

She had played the Game as much as was possible in Ferelden. She had secured her rule with no royal blood in her veins. And she knew she would have to give her answer.

 

* * *

 

Queen Anora’s acceptance came with the first hints of spring. It was traditional in every way, except for the letter that accompanied for Celene’s eyes only.

Celene read it in the company of only her serving girls, alone in her parlor after taking tea. 

The Queen was most unusual, she thought to herself. Most of the letter was in response to her previous letter. Her words were blunt, almost _too_ blunt for any Orlesian member of the court. She hoped she had advisors to coach her in regards to the Game, otherwise she would be eaten alive at the ball.

Her words were laced with an edge that Celene could almost hear. She was not like her father in her outright hatred, but it was clear that she was wary. Very wary. Considering the position her country had been in not so long ago, Celene could understand the hesitation. It was time to move past that petty border nonsense and work on establishing an ally.  

It was no secret the nobles held little regard for the eastern nation, as they had often been perceived as backwards, almost savage and stuck far behind the times. Celene intended to open full trade with Ferelden, to give them a chance to flourish at their side, and perhaps they would both benefit from the arrangement.

It was not the first time such an arrangement was to be considered. If Cailian had lived, Anora would not have been queen for much longer, she knew. But now Anora ruled alone, and Cailan was long dead. 

Progress had yet to be made, and Celene would see to it.

 

* * *

 

“Her Majesty Queen Anora of Ferelden,” the crier’s voice carried across the hall as Celene looked up curiously. The ball had not begun, but the Queen was to join her early for light refreshments and to prepare, as she was the official guest of Celene’s festivities. 

She was flanked by her two handmaidens, both in shades of pale green, as their Queen led them. Her dress was long, a light blue, accented by a dark blue cinch around her waist and the pale gold of the long middle panel on her gown. Most of her hair was pinned up, but ringlets of her long blonde hair cascaded down upon her shoulders. She wore a mask of gold, sapphires set into the cheeks, and she wore the smile and posture of one who had been in court far beyond her years.

Celene, her gown an extravagant gold, curtsied as the Ferelden queen approached. Anora climbed the stairs delicately and curtsied in response.

“Your majesty,” Celene began, “What an honor you would join me here tonight.”

Anora gracefully inclined her head, not bowing quite fully, which was acceptable for an equal. Which, Celene reminded herself, they were. She was not used to equals.

“The honor is mine to receive your invitation, and to stand at your side,” Anora responded. Their eyes met briefly, a silent battle to see who was truly being genuine. Celene smiled, and Anora followed suit. A draw.

It seemed tonight would be quite interesting, for a change.

 

* * *

 

“I was aware,” Anora started, once the music was loud enough to drown out prying ears, “Of your interactions with Cailan.” The dance floor was busy as they sat in their thrones, two queens overlooking the festivities with cold eyes. 

“A foolish move on my advisors' part, I'm afraid, as I was so new to the throne. I am sorry for your loss, majesty.” Celene refused to give her any bait. They were here for _friendship_ , and she would ease the tension- even if it cost her an ounce of pride.

“On the contrary, your highness. Politically, it was a sound move. I don’t think he would have had the nerve to go through with it, though. He was always a touch sentimental. Even toward me.” There was no passive bite in her words. _Hmm._

Celene chuckled, “I have had my fill of my advisors plotting to marry me off. Surely you have as well, even in your short time.”

Anora turned to look at the Empress, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, “Indeed. It is a burden we must share, I think.”

“Agreed. A toast, majesty,” Celene raised her glass and Anora followed suit, “To independence. A strong ruler is better than any weak marriage.”

“Independence,” Anora’s strong tone matched hers and they raised their glasses and sipped in silence.

 

* * *

 

“I wonder,” Celene said, as the last of the guests made themselves scarce, “If you would join me for a late-night meal in my parlor? I have quite enjoyed getting to know you, your highness.”

Anora yet again met her gaze, her expression traditionally unreadable before answering, “That sounds quite pleasant, your majesty.”

Celene led the way, her handmaidens by her side as they retreated to the lavish comfort of the Royal Wing.

Servants were ushered out as the handmaidens poured them tea. A tray of pastries sat nearby. It was so utterly extravagant, Anora thought, taking her teacup and braving a sip of the piping hot tea. So much more extravagant than Ferelden, and yet, Celene had not overtly or subtly made any attempts to belittle her in the slightest.  

It was confusing. And so was the Empress.

“Ladies, if you might leave her Majesty and I?”

Anora’s handmaidens looked to her for confirmation, their eyes seething anxiety over having to leave their mistress alone in a room with one of the most powerful women in Thedas. Anora simply nodded to them, and waved them away.

Celene reached up and removed her mask. Such a blatant move in Orlais, but Anora caught the meaning. They displayed their bare faces when they wished to show they had nothing to hide. It was the ultimate show of trust, and Anora was expected to do the same, or face bearing the Empress a grave insult.

The Queen removed her own mask, setting it gingerly on the table as she made eye contact with Celene once more that night.

“So, we are in agreement. I feel I have made a great acquaintance in you, your highness.” Celene’s accented lilted, so foreign upon Anora’s ears. 

“And I in you, your majesty.”

Celene made an annoyed sound, “Celene. We are bare-faced, alone. Equal. I would have you address me as such.”

It was another test of her trust, “Then, please feel free to call me Anora, as well, Celene.”

Their eyes met again. Anora’s, a dark blue, and Celene’s, so pale they looked nearly white. 

“It is a shame our countries could not be allied before, but I feel we have made a step in the right direction with our meeting.” Celene paused before continuing, “I mean no offence, but for one with no royal blood, your rule is far superior to your late husband’s.”

A smile teased Anora’s lips, “Thank you. Perhaps had I been your intended engagement, it would have gone through.” Both women chuckled at that, but met each others’ eyes.

“Yes, that is quite the shame. For both our nations.” Celene set her hand on the table, “And yet, here we are, much later, and far wiser. All for the better, I think.” She raised her eyebrows in question.

“I’d like to thank you for being so welcoming, Celene. This country has so much beauty about it.” Anora met her gaze and set her hand on the table as well. Their fingers were almost touching.

“Oh? I look forward to seeing Ferelden one day, then, as you are their representation.” There was no doubt now, Anora had to see where she was going. But Celene was just too intrigued to hold back. The Queen was powerful, beautiful, and challenging.

It was too much to resist.

Anora stood carefully, keeping eye contact as she did so, “I find myself overly warm, Celene. Perhaps you could assist me with this problem.”

“Indeed,” Celene smiled gently as she stood, “Let me show you to my chambers.” She came alongside the Ferelden queen, raising an arm for Anora to take. The Ferelden laid her hand on Anora’s forearm, allowing herself to be led.

They walked in silence a few moments, reaching the door to Celene’s chambers, which was already open, her room bathed in the light of the immense chandelier and the many candles scattered around. Celene took the queen’s hand then, and placed a kiss upon it. Anora’s cheeks were flushed, and their breath mixed as they leaned in, Anora’s free hand moving to perch upon Celene’s waist, and Celene’s reached for her neck, drawing her in.

Their lips met, and etiquette was promptly forgotten.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY I finish the smut. Sorry, I was just so blocked for a while, but here, have at it!

Celene kissed precisely, as if steps in a dance she played often. Anora met her with force, and Celene found herself humming in pleasure as the other woman dominated their kiss.

Just as soon, their kisses were over, and they took the time to carefully help each other undress. Minutes passed in anticipation, peppered by impatient kisses in between garments being shed and hung. It would not do for word to get out, after all. Finally, they were both completely bare, and, with nothing fragile and delicate in the way, they began again.

Anora pushed Celene onto her bed, straddling her hips as their lips crashed together again, Celene slid her wandering hands down Anora’s back, reaching down to grab her ass without hesitation. _Equals_ , she thought, _This was how equals went about this_.

Anora’s moan was music, breathy and unabashed, and Celene felt Anora shift her hand to one of Celene’s pert breasts, her lips trailing down to Celene’s neck, placing soft, teasing kisses all along.

It had been years since Anora had found herself with a woman, and she had certainly never laid with one as inarguably beautiful as the Empress, and assuredly not one as powerful. There was confidence in her every move, the empress’s perfectly manicured- and cut, she noted- fingers slid from her ass to her breast, teasing her nipple with a soft pinch.

Anora sighed against Celene’s neck, her breath starting to come heavy as she ground against the other woman’s thigh. She caught Celene’s earlobe with her teeth and tugged gently, coaxing a soft groan from her.

Celene moved her hand to between her legs, teasing the curls of her mound before dipping lower, flicking expertly over her clit. A shudder overtook Anora, her face buried in the empress’s neck as she pressed open mouthed kisses there. Celene chuckled and rolled on top of her queen, kissing down her chest and sucking on a breast with vigor as her hand continued to tease Anora’s folds, feeling the excitement build up and wondering vaguely how she would taste.

She kissed down Anora’s torso, her hands moving toward her thighs, ready to lift them.

“And here I thought I would get my way with you first,” Anora said, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips- Celene had grown to love that about the queen tonight.

“Nonsense,” Celene drawled, her accent heavy upon her lips as she forced herself to speak the trade tongue, “You are my guest of honor, my lady.” She made full eye contact as she raised Anora’s legs over her shoulder and kissed her thighs reverently, breath just ghosting Anora’s folds.

“Then you have my express invitation to continue,” Anora said, her heavy breathing betraying the calm of her statement, _daring Celene to stop_. Celene grinned, a lion snatching its prey, and dove in, her mouth sealing around her clit and her tongue swirling.

Anora’s head flew back against the pillow, gasps and curses left her mouth, and Celene didn’t dare to translate lest she lose focus. She tasted magnificent, and her tongue licked the length of her folds, from her opening up to her sensitive clit, lapping up her flavor. The queen’s hands were in her hair, mussing the perfect the perfectly pinned style, and Celene would have it no other way.

“Oh maker, yes, yes,” Anora chanted, Celene’s fingers now teased her opening, sliding within her, and Anora could feel her hit the perfect spot as her perfect lips sucked her clit, it was almost too much. She could feel the buildup in her gut as celene’s finger was joined by another and they _curled_ perfectly. Anora’s jaw fell open and her eyes closed, her fingers tightening in celene’s hair.

Celene pulled up, her chin coated in Anora’s wetness while her fingers worked. Her thumb replaced Celene’s tongue and she whispered in Orlesian, a quiet demand for Anora to fall apart.

Anora came as soon as she spoke, a cry on her lips as she felt release course through her veins. Celene’s fingers left her, only with a brush of knuckles against her tender nerves, making her shudder all over again. The Empress kissed her furiously, and even shaking, Anora rolled her over yet again, kissing her, tasting herself on Celene’s tongue, feeling her own wetness on Celene’s chin.

She moved to reciprocate, but Celene grabbed her chin and whispered urgently, kissing her as she spoke, “Fingers, Anora, I would have your mouth on mine while you bring me to my peak.”

With that, the queen obliged, leaning over her as her fingers dipped lower, finding the Empress nearly as wet as she had been. Her thumb teased her, moving in circles as Anora slipped her tongue against Celene’s. Anora slowly slid her index in, and, finding little resistance, joined it with another. She felt her Radiance shiver and Celene gasped into her mouth, spouting nonsense mixtures of broken Orlesian and Trade as Anora continued.

“You are so beautiful at my mercy, Celene,” Anora muttered against her lips, a chuckle escaping as she continued to kiss the other woman. her fingers moved, teasing and scissoring, curling deep within her.

Celene threw her head back and Anora mouthed at her neck, moving to her ear, “Listen to you, coming apart with a simple movement of my hand.” The Queen crooked her fingers again, and Celene bucked, shivering with the anticipation of orgasm. For a moment, Anora stayed her movments, and Celene’s hips moved on their own, seeking friction so desperately.

“Anora,” her accent came thicker than usual, “Ma reine, please.” Her voice was throaty, raw, _desperate_.

Anora fucked her, her fingers moving in patterned thrusts, _in, curl, uncurl, out_ , her thumb moved once more. Celene whined, actually whined and her eyes flew shut. Anora knew she was close and her mouth met the Empress’s in one final, vicious kiss before Celene gasped and her arms grasped at Anora. Her groan was the cue, and Anora felt her tighten around her digits. She let the Empress ride out her peak, sighing and kissing her all at once.

Her fingers slipped free, and Anora licked them gladly, watching Celene’s hungry eyes upon her as she did so.

Celene spoke, still regaining her breath, “A stunning performance from the supposedly uncivilised queen.” They laughed quietly, and Celene pulled her close, “I would hope this is acceptable, as well.”

Anora had not cuddled in what seemed like decades. And yet, she found herself meeting the Empress in another kiss as they both settled on their sides, face to face and legs entangled.

“This was a most unexpected surprise, Radiance.” Anora’s smile betrayed her formality.

“And yet, I seem to hope for more occasions for our countries to come together once more.” Celene met her gaze, a player of the Game even, it would seem, in bed.

“Perhaps we shall have to arrange something, then.”

They stayed like that, falling asleep only a few short minutes afterward.

* * *

“You proposed to marry my dear late husband, I recall,” Anora said, later.

“I may have,” Celene responded.

“Surely the Chantry would have no issue if we were to unite instead?” The Queen looked anywhere but the Empress. Perhaps this was too forward. Usually proposals were made out of necessity, not after a night of passion.

“You make an interesting point, Highness,” Celene said. There was a pause as she contemplated, “The problem of an heir?”

Anora had thought of this. “Can be dealt with. I am not of noble blood, and I hold the throne. I see no reason why an adopted son or daughter could not do the same.”

“The chantry has no issue uniting similar couples of less standing. I suspect, if there are rules regarding such unions-,” Celene smirked, taking Anora’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “-we shall simply have to rewrite them.”


End file.
